Putting It Back Together Again
by KinoFille
Summary: My 'shippy take on the LL "window" scene in Nag Hammadi. One-shot.


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Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the show. The set-up for this scene and bits of the dialogue are taken from the _Gilmore Girls_ episode "Nag Hammadi is Where They Found the Gnostic Gospels." The rest is the product of my fevered imagination.

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Author's Note: So, I'm watching the Drunk!Luke Tries to Fix the Window scene in "Nag Hammadi" again the other night, and my little 'shippy heart just starts beating wildly. I know that this probably wasn't the best moment to get them together narratively (You kill the couple when you get them together!) or morally (He's married! She's got a guy!). But dagnabbit, I wanted something to happen! Read on for my conception of said "something."

Just want to add a couple of things: First, part of the inspiration for this scene came from Pamie's recap of "Nag Hammadi" on televisionwithoutpity.com. If you've never read Pamie's recaps, you're missing out on some smart, snarky fun. Second, I am by no means the first to spin a fanfic out of this particular moment. SilverTree's "That Did NOT Just Happen," for instance, is a beautiful, brilliant example that I can only hope to live up to. This is simply my offering on the Java Junkie altar.

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Lorelai wasn't that surprised to find Luke in her living room. He'd been over to the house lots of times to fix whatever they'd needed—porch railings, back door locks, and now the stupid window she'd broken trying to close it the night before. The fact that he was there to play Handyman Luke didn't phase her. 

What did throw her for a loop was that Luke, her best friend and all-around go-to-guy, was standing in her living room half-drunk, bleeding, and calling himself an "unwelcome burden to everyone around me." That? Unnerved her a little. This was the second time she'd seen Luke lose it in two days (granted, last night's Tolstoy rant hadn't been fueled by "a few beers"), and she had no idea how to help him. She only knew that she wanted to do _something_. Her first impulse was to murder the little Kerouac wannabe who'd said those awful things to him. She was sure no jury in Stars Hollow would convict her if she did decide to bump off the little twerp. Hell, the town would probably give her a medal and throw a special Lorelai Festival in her honor. (Hopefully there would be snow for the proceedings). Right now, though, Luke needed her. Punk-icide could wait. 

Propelling Luke over to the couch, she told him to hang out for a while and promised him a bandage that wouldn't get him beat up on the playground. After she got him settled into the cushions, she leaned in for a minute to make sure he was okay. She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, then turned to get to work on Kill Jess, Vol. 1. Before she could move away, though, she was stopped by Luke's hand at her waist. His other hand lightly circled her forearm, and before she could process what was happening, she found herself being slowly pulled into Luke's lap.

"Hey," he said, still slightly bleary.

"Hey, yourself." She knew that she should be freaked out that she was sprawled across his legs, her face just inches from his, but this was Luke. _He's just tipsy,_ she told herself. _He probably has no real clue what he's doing. If he did, he'd never be able to look me in the eye again._

At that moment, though, he was looking _directly_ into her eyes, gazing into them as if he'd never really seen them before. A slow smile spread across his face. "You have blue eyes."

The whole sitting-in-the lap deal was one thing, but she had to admit that the way he was staring at her was definitely starting to freak her out just a little. "Yes, I do have blue eyes." As she always did when faced with a situation she couldn't handle, she went into Babble Mode. "Rory has blue eyes, too. We get that from the Gilmore side of the family, which just ticks Emily off completely." She chuckled nervously. "Dad always says the Gilmore genes could survive the DNA equivalent of a nuclear blast." Okay, Richard had never actually said that, but Luke's thumb was tracing circles on her forearm and she was starting to have trouble forming coherent thoughts.

"Pretty eyes," he said softly.

She decided to try babbling again. "Oh, that's all in the shadow technique. See, you line the lashes with a darker color, then use a really light shadow on the inside of the lids to make your eyes really pop. . . ." She trailed off, having become vividly aware of Luke's own blue eyes and long, full lashes. _Okay, Gilmore, chill out,_ she scolded herself. _This is Luke. Luke, who is your best friend. Luke, the guy who serves you coffee every day. Luke, who's seen you with bedhead and no make-up._

Luke, who was at that moment nuzzling her ear. Luke, whose hand was slowly working its way under the back of her sweater. "Really pretty eyes," he repeated, his breath hot against her cheek. Suddenly, Lorelai realized it wasn't just a saying—a person's heart really _could_ just stop.

A second later, Luke's mouth found hers. Now, once or twice over the years, Lorelai had idly wondered what it might be like to kiss Luke. Okay, maybe it was more than once or twice, and maybe the wondering hadn't been so "idle." But nothing—not her least guarded Luke fantasies, not even the Twin dream—could prepare her for this. His lips were warm and soft and they played over hers, teasing and exploring and causing her face to flush and parts of her to throb that were nowhere near her mouth, and--_Holy Mother of God, where did he learn to kiss like that?_

She finally pulled away, but only got as far as leaning her forehead against his while she tried to catch her breath. "We just . . . I . . . you're drunk," she finished lamely, her voice barely a whisper.

Luke reached up and cradled her face in his hands. "I'm not that drunk," he responded huskily. He pulled her lips to his and kissed her even more intensely. She let out a soft whimper when his tongue eased its way into her mouth. He tasted like beer, and his stubble was rough against her face, and the combination only served to get her more aroused. She pushed the baseball cap off his head then thrust her fingers up into his hair, trying to deepen the kiss even more. This time it was his turn to moan a little. 

After a while, Luke's mouth found its way back to where it had started—at the sensitive spot between her earlobe and her jaw. He trailed kisses down her neck, tugging at the collar of her sweater to get better access. "Lorelai," he breathed roughly.

At the sound of Luke saying her name _like that_, Lorelai was lost. She just pressed her lips to his again and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. She felt giddy and guilty and safe and scared and confused and completely turned on, and the only thing she knew for sure was that she wanted to stay this way, with Luke's arms around her and his lips on hers, for as long as humanly possible. She didn't care that it meant that Emily had been right about them. She didn't care that Patty and the rest of the town would turn them into the Stars Hollow equivalent of Ben and Jen. (Okay, _Brad_ and Jen.) It didn't matter that she had a sort-of boyfriend, or that Luke had . . .

. . . a wife.

The sudden memory of Luke's marital status hit Lorelai with a physical force. She dragged her mouth away from his and detached herself from his arms, then slid off his lap to sit next to him. She stared at the floor for a minute, trying to get her pulse rate back to normal. "This is 57 varieties of wrong," she said softly.

"Oh. Yeah. Right. Oh, man, of course it is. Jeez, Lorelai, I'm really sorry." She looked up and saw that the hurt and disappointment in his voice were reflected in his eyes.

She turned to face him more fully. "Luke, you and I both know that there are very good reasons why we shouldn't be doing this right now." She took a deep breath, afraid of what she was about to say, but absolutely sure she wanted to say it. "But I don't want to go back. I don't even know if I _could _go back."

Luke looked as confused as she'd felt the one and only time she'd tried to follow the manual to hook up a DVD player. "You don't want to go back?"

"No."

"You don't want to go back. So that means you want to go . . . forward?"

She couldn't help giggling a little. "Well, 'forward' is the accepted opposite of 'backward,' yes."

"You want to go forward. With me." He was still trying to work it all out.

"I guess I could go forward by myself, but I think it would probably be more fun if you were along for the ride." 

Finally, it all seemed to click and he grinned widely. "Well, good. That's good. 'Cause I want to, you know . . . move forward with you, too."

"Great. Now that that's settled . . ." She stood up, then turned around and pulled him up with her.

"What are we doing?" Poor thing looked all confused again. .

"Well, right now I'm going to drive you home. You're going to sleep this off, and I'm going to fill a seat at yet another Useless Rich People's Charity Thingy." She retrieved his cap from the couch, settled it back on his head and smiled up at him. "Then, when we're both thinking a little more clearly, we're going to sit down together and figure out what we should do next."

Luke nodded seriously. "Good. Good plan. I approve."

As they headed toward the door, Luke came to a sudden stop. "Aw, man! I was supposed to fix the stupid window!"

Lorelai looked at the broken pane covered with plastic wrap and Barbie band-aids. "It's okay. It can wait."

"No, it can't wait. It's supposed to go below freezing tonight. That flimsy little piece of plastic will never keep the heat in and--" 

Lorelai placed a finger on his lips to silence his rant. "Luke, it's okay." She reached up to kiss his cheek. "There will be plenty of time later."

Plenty of time.

-End-


End file.
